AN: Hello All, and welcome back. This is the completed first chapter of the new fic. I posted part of it before. I will be posting all future chapters under the name Dean, the Dangerous, and the Damned. I have also added Cas, the King of Karaoke to Ao3 and will likely do the same with this fic later. The posting schedule will likely be Mondays and Thursdays. Enjoy:)

If Dean's life had a soundtrack it would be as loud as the discordant drums and guitar riffs tearing at his back. If his life had a soundtrack, Dean was sure that it would be distasteful to most polite people. The screaming, big-hair bands of the 80s and the angry growls of 90s angst rock would fill the playlist. Of course, there's always room for a little 70s, but none of that disco shit, mind you. If his life had a soundtrack there was a chance that there might be soft songs too, ones that were wholly different from the ones careening around him at that moment. The portable stereo had been blasting out noise for nearly an hour while Dean lazily reclined in Sam's too expensive lawn furniture. Dean ran his fingers up the armrest of the piece that he had been nearly sleeping in and thought, I could have made this for half the cost. He revised his internal monologue when he recalled the catalogues that were on Sammy's coffee table just inside, way less than half.

If Dean's life had a soundtrack, though, that would be an improvement. It had a soundtrack once. It had been a long stretch of time though since Dean had felt like anything was drumming along in his silent existence. He ate; he slept; he worked. This was his life on repeat for the past year. Being here at Sammy's was the one anomaly to his otherwise predictable existence. His life was frustrating to him. The fact that he had been on desk duty for the past year was maddening. The fact that he had felt stagnant and stuck everyday for the past year was steadily making him into a surly man that somewhat resembled his equally surly uncle Bobby.

The hard, fast tracks beat out a rhythm. Song after song played out into the afternoon while he soaked in the afternoon sun. The sun on his bare chest was giving him the beginnings of a tan that hadn't been there an hour ago. He ran his hand up through his sun lightened brown hair and then reached back for his drink. He cracked open his second can of beer and took a long gulp before closing his eyes again. He had consciously chosen not to fill the green cooler with bottled beers from Sam's fridge. They were Sam's fancy microbrews, and they reminded him of a different time. The cans reminded him of Bobby, and that was still comfortable.

The house and the yard were comfortable too. It was a new house and yard. Well, new to Sam and Jess, but not new by any other standard. It was a real fixer-upper when they first moved in. Sam liked his projects it seemed. Dean let out a sigh as he thought of the moment when Sam had finally shared his decision regarding the sale of the family home, ash heap now. The property had plenty of value, even if the house was no longer there. He shuddered a little with the memory of the place.

Dean had always viewed the old home with a tinge of horror. His mother's death in the fire had made Dean feel as though the house was filled with too many bad memories. With the advent of the second fire and the other horrors brought to the home by A, Sam finally viewed the home with the same horror that Dean did. That place now had too many demons for him too.

The song that was playing ended abruptly. The next song was milder, significantly so. He huffed out a breathe of irritation and was about to get up to fast forward past this melodic intruder. He paused in the middle of his movement toward it when it hit him. The last time he had listened to this song slammed into his head with all of the force of the past. It was Bon Jovi. The last time that he heard the song, Cas has been singing it. Nevermind, Blaze of Glory isn't so bad. He told himself as he slumped back into his old position.

He pulled out his cell phone and thought about texting. He had gotten Cas' new number from Bobby. Just a short message. What could it hurt? He knew what it could hurt, and because of that he instead decided to inflict other tortures on himself. This brand of torture was a constant for him. He would often consider reaching out, only to push aside his own desires. He clicked on his last message thread with Cas and began rereading it from the top all the way down. It was funny to him to look back at the first messages and remember what he was like then, how much he had tried to convince himself that he was just seeking friendship with his brother's co-worker.

He got to the messages that they had exchanged when it was all still so innocent. He stopped at the one from Cas that read: I've been looking forward to your company all week. He remembered how he had felt then. His heart had nearly stopped. He had questioned each exchange, each glance from the night at the bar, each tiny bit of contact. He remembered playing out the scene in the alleyway over and over. He remembered how even in those first stuttering moments of their relationship they had felt the pull. The draw of each other's presence on the other. Had it not been for Sammy practically throwing himself out into the alley, Dean would have been all up in Cas' personal space. As it was though, Dean could not complain. They had found the path to intimacy not long after, and it was a bright song in Dean's otherwise songless life.

He flicked his finger speedily down the phone, sending the texts to the bottom. There were messages there that would remind him not to reinsert himself into Cas' life. Not that he really needed a reminder. It was likely more about Dean just inflicting torments on his mind that could possibly alleviate the guilt. These moments did not help, but he felt that they were what he deserved.

Sometimes it was hard to remember why distance was necessary when he was just reading the early texts. The later ones though, always hit him hard. The ones that were his "go-to" reminders were the frantic texts that he sent just after A had attacked Cas in his office. It was damn near impossible for Dean to overlook the dangers that he brought into Cas' life each time that he read those texts.

Are you okay?

Answer your phone.

Damn it Cas please answer your phone.

I swear to God that if you don't answer your phone, I'll kill you myself.

I didn't mean that. Answer the phone. Please.

Sam said that you were hurt. I swear I will kill him.

I'm freaking out now, Cas. Please be okay.

there is so much i need to say and i can't if you dont pick up your ph

Answer it

I'll never forgive myself you have to be okay

He never did get to tell Cas all that he had wanted to tell him. It was for the best though, he thought. No sense making things any more difficult for the two of us.

He got up from the chair and wandered out to the front of Sam's property. The Impala was gleaming bright under the high afternoon sun. The black and chrome were blinding him for a moment. He opened the passenger door and reached out to the glove box. He intended to lock away his phone in there. Out of sight, out of mind. He wondered if it was ever going to get any easier.

As he placed the phone in the box, his eyes chanced upon the other phone. The second phone use to go everywhere with him. It was the emergency phone. It was one of those cheap pay-as-you-go phones. This was the phone that Cas would call if he needed Dean. Dean never received a call. Cas didn't need him. Eventually, he started leaving it in the glove box, as opposed to, carrying it in his pocket. He plucked up the phone and turned it on. The phone had another purpose too. It was his one mode of contact with Garth.

Garth was a local P.I. that Dean sometimes employed for little jobs that he couldn't swing alone. He was useful and rather friendly. When he had decided that he would need some eyes and ears near Cas, Garth became his solution. This solution was eating up most of his paycheck, but he didn't care. It was a small price to pay for peace of mind. He carried the phone with him back to the yard and plopped back down in the chair that he had occupied before. He clicked his contact list. He scrolled through until he found Garth's name and then clicked on him. He noted the last date that he had called was not quite a week ago, and he prepared for the gentle ribbing that he would likely get for his impatience. He pressed the call through.

Garth answered on the third ring. "Really, Dean, it has barely been five days this time. I thought that we were going to do full weeks between these little check-ins."

"Well, hello to you too, Garth." Dean thought about putting up a pretence of just calling to say hi, but Garth knew him too well to go along with such a thing.

"So, should we talk about the weather? Or, I know, how's Sam and Jess?" Now Garth was just messing with him.

"You just can't make this easy, can you, Garth?" Dean huffed out in exasperation.

"Well, Dean, just once it would be nice if you called to just say hello or something less stalkerish. I am really starting to feel like kind of a creeper."

"You know that it isn't like that right?" Dean worried for a second that Garth was not seeing the situation with the seriousness that it warranted.

"I know, Dean. I was just having fun at your expense. It gets a little boring around here. Frankly, I would tell you to call more often if I didn't think that it was unhealthy for you. You provide some of the only entertainment that I get all week." Garth sounded like he was in a slightly melancholy mood. Dean felt a little bad about the situation that he had tossed the guy into.

"Sorry about all of this. I think that I will be able to get back into this soon. My physical therapist said that I am just about ready to get out of this horrible desk duty and back on the streets. That puts me just a bit closer to getting the case solved and Cas and Lil out of harm's way."

"I wasn't complaining, Dean. It has just been a little dull here. Cas couldn't have picked a more boring place to live."

"I think that was the point." Then Dean decided to redirect to the path that he wanted when he had called in the first place. "So, how is he doing? How is Lil?"

"Well, that took less time than last time. I swear, Dean, you are like a dog with a bone when it comes to some things."

"Funny, that's what Bobby says about me too. Now, spill." Dean was losing patience a little, but he wasn't upset with Garth. He waited a moment before Garth actually started sharing.

"Well, this was a big week for the Young family." Garth used the last name that Dean had chosen as Cas' new alias. "Cas took Lil to a movie. They saw some cartoon thing. They ate out at the local pizza joint. They each went to work and school. They have routines. It is easy to follow them and keep track of them."

"Why did you say that it had been a big week?" Dean asked.

"Well, it was Lil's birthday. She turned six. Cas threw a little party for her in their yard. There were a couple of families there. The usual suspects. No one to be concerned about."

"Really, six? Last time I saw her she was four."

"Nah, she must have turned five when you saw her, but I imagine that no one knew back then." Garth's words made Dean feel a little sad about the situation that Lil had been in. That they could miss such a milestone was upsetting to him. It was also a further reminder that he had no business inserting himself into their lives. They don't deserve that.

He redirected though, "No signs of trouble right?" Dean voiced the same fearful question every time that they spoke. Trouble meant many things when Dean said it. He thought of A's brother, who was never located and of all the sordid people that could also find their way into Cas and Lil's lives.

"No sign of anything or anyone that is troubling. It's a small town, Dean. Newbies would not go unnoticed." Garth had adopted the same reassuring tone each time that he spoke with Dean. The problem was that Dean had started to hear it as less than reassuring. It sounded more to Dean like Garth had gotten bored to the point of not caring about the job.

"Are you still working for the coffee house? You still see most people there?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I still work there. It is a better job than the one Cas has. He did branch out a little this past week, though."

"What do you mean?"

"He decided to start working at the legal aid office downtown. Well, he is doing this when he is not already working over at the Music Depot."

"Is he still doing piano lessons and that sort of stuff?"

"Seems so."

"Should I be worried about the new gig? Seems like that could land him on someone's radar." Dean couldn't help but have a little worry creep into his voice.

"Nah, I think that he has been downplaying his lawyer side quite a bit. He seems to just work on piddly little local issues. I don't think that his work will end up on any official documents or in any courtrooms. He had been doing some drop in work for them before, but now is different. Now, he seems to be on a regular schedule with them. I almost think that he is more like a counsellor. He seems to get a lot of people that come to just talk to him about their lives. He is a pretty good listener."

"How do you know?" Dean wondered just how much Garth could really have access to. He didn't want Garth to just embellish the details.

"Well, you do know that I talk with him at the coffee house, right. I mean, he does come in like everyday. I would say that he and I are kind of friends. We usually talk for a bit before he heads off to his corner to read and drink his morning cup of coffee. Also, people talk about him. He is the nice single father that just moved to town. It hardly matters that he has been here for a year. He is fresh meat compared to the rest of the town's people. I think that is why it is so easy for all of them to talk with him, go to him with their problems. He hasn't been here long enough for them to worry about him judging them. They are too busy judging him anyway."

"What do you mean when you say that they are judging him?" Dean was always rather quick to defend Cas in these little conversations.

Garth groaned in slight exasperation, 'Nothing big, Dean. They just wonder about him. He comes up in coffee house gossip. He's attractive and single. Plus, he has the whole single-dad adorableness going for him. The ladies are having a heck of a time with the fact that he hasn't shown any interest in dating from the local pool of women."

"They do know that he's gay, right?" I mean really, it has been a year. Buy a clue people.

"Clearly, no. It isn't like Cas is hiding anything. It just never seems to come up. He redirects conversations like a pro. He never lets anyone get to the point of actually asking him out, and he never lets them get too deep into the questioning so common in small towns. They know virtually nothing about him. I imagine that this just adds to the Cas mystique." Garth seemed to be enjoying playing amature psychologist.

"So, no guys have approached him either?" Dean wondered aloud. He hadn't actually meant to ask. It felt too personal.

"Not really." Garth seemed to want to move on, but Dean was not comfortable with the answer.

"What do you mean by not really?" Not really means yes. It totally means yes.

"Well, there is this one guy in town. He is not out, but he flirts with Cas. He hangs out at the coffee house on the weekends and sometimes in the afternoon on the weekdays. He is a nice guy. Cas is uninterested though."

Dean felt irritated, but he pushed it down. So what if someone wanted to flirt with Cas. It had been a year and Cas deserved to have a little attention. He tried not to sound irritated when he spoke as he did not want Garth to know how much the information had rattled him. He might hold back if he knew. "Well, Garth, I gotta get going. Sounds like Sam just got back, and he has me slated to work on the house."

"Okie, dokie. I guess I'll hear from you in a couple of days, huh?"

"Yeah. You know me. I am not likely going to wait a week." He laughed a little.

"That's good. I don't want to have to come up with my own entertainment." Garth laughed too. "Talk to you later, Dean."

"Bye, Garth." Dean wondered how long he would be able to wait this week. I'll be lucky if I make it two days.

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